Tag Archives: writing

book reviews, novel

Heart-Wrenching Story of Family Betrayal

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I think this was a recommendation by Sally Cronin. Thanks, Sally. An amazing book. I finished it a couple of days ago, but it’s still resonating.

I think I’ve just found my new favourite author.

OVERVIEW 

A heart wrenching story told with sympathy and understanding. Set in the 1960s, some of the treatment of the children seems harsh and wrong to us now, but in those days, people thought they were doing the right thing.

STORY

Charlie and Chloe are twins. When we first meet them they are eight years old and their mother died three years previously. They are living happily with their father, Graham, although they miss their mother, of course. 

Then one day Graham brings home a woman whom he says he is going to marry. She is the nurse who cared for their mother in her final days.

But she isn’t the kind, understanding woman that she makes everyone believe. 

Charlie sees through her right from the start, and their world gradually turns upside down.

The book takes us through many years as the children become adults.

I don’t want to say more as anything else would be a spoiler.

BLURB

A gripping ‘cuckoo in the nest’ domestic thriller

After the death of their mum, twins Chloe and Charlie are shocked when their dad introduces Lynne as their ‘new mummy’. Lynne, a district nurse, is trusted in the community, but the twins can see her kind smile doesn’t meet her eyes. In the months that follow they suffer the torment Lynne brings to their house as she stops at nothing in her need to be in control.

Betrayed, separated and alone, the twins struggle to build new lives as adults, but will they find happiness or repeat past mistakes? Will they discover Lynne’s secret plans for their father? Will they find each other in time?

The Stranger in My House is a gripping ‘cuckoo in the nest’ domestic thriller, exploring how coercive control can tear a family apart. Set in Yorkshire and Cardiff, from the 60s to the winter of discontent, The Stranger in My House dramatises both the cruelty and the love families hide behind closed doors.

CHARACTERS

The people in this story are well-rounded. No one is perfect.

Charlie is a perceptive little boy. But he lets his resentment eat away at him as he grows up. Not surprisingly, really, given what he has to go through. He is also stubborn in refusing to try to get on with Lynne, his new stepmother.

Chloe is more malleable. She wants to get on with Lynne, and tries to persuade Charlie he’s wrong about her.

Graham is a lovely father; kind and supportive until he becomes more and more under Lynne’s influence. He believes her over his children.

Lynne is shown as a manipulative woman who is willing to wait for years for what she wants. She says she has been in an abusive relationship, but managed to escape.

Lynne has two children of her own, Evie and Saul, both older than Charlie and Chloe.

Evie is lovely, and knows exactly what her mother is like and she helps the twins whenever she can, even if only lending an ear.

Saul, on the other hand, is a bully. He bullies Charlie, but if Charlie says anything, Lynne takes Saul’s side and convinces Graham that Charlie is making it up.

WRITING.

Excellent writing. I felt sympathy for the children and got angry with the adults, just as I would in real life.

The characters are believable written in a sympathetic way, except, of course, Lynne and Saul, whom I was anxious to see get their just deserts.

There were no grammatical errors or typos.

I would fully recommend this book. I couldn’t put it down.

I give it 5*

My ranking of books. In order to get a particular number of stars, it is not necessary to meet all the criteria. This is a guide only.

5* Exceptional. Wonderful story. Setting well drawn, and characters believable–not perfect, but with flaws. Will keep you up all night. No typos or grammatical errors.

4* A thoroughly enjoyable read. Great and original story. Believable setting and characters. Very few grammatical errors or typos.

3* I enjoyed it. Good story. Characters need some development. Some typos or grammatical errors.

2* Not for me. Story not very strong. Unbelievable and flat characters. Setting not clearly defined. Many typos or grammatical errors.

1* I hated it. Story almost non-existent. Setting poor. Possibly couldn’t finish it.

Have you read anything by Judith Barrow? I definitely intend to read more of her books.

serial, short story, stories

The Story of Goldie: A Journey Through Poverty Part 2

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Artwork by me and Bing AI

“Come on.” Jack dragged her out of the door, pinching her arm as he did so.

“Ow!” Goldie shook him off as they descended the stairs. “What’ll happen to Peter?”

“Get switched. Prob’ly have a meal stopped, too. Shouldna ’ave kept money back. Mr Smith likes switchin’ ’e does. Don’t give ’im any chance to switch you. Do as ’e says, right and proper, and you’ll be a’right.” 

Goldie looked around. “What’s this place? Who lives in these rooms?”

Jack shrugged. “Mr Smith lives in one. Annie in another. The rest are Mary and her girls.”

“Mary said she wants me for one of her girls when I’m grown. What do her girls do?”

Jack paused on the stairs. “They’re whores. Know what them is?”

“I think so. A whore lived near us, before mamma died.” She sniffed and ran a hand across her face leaving a dirty smudge. “Lots and lots of men visited her. Mamma said she sold her body to them.” She screwed her face up. “I didn’t understand what she meant.”

They reached the door and Jack led her into the street. Rubbish blew past them, and the wind whipped Goldie’s hair into her eyes. A scrawny cat jumped onto a wall opposite.

Jack turned right along the street. Tall tenement blocks of houses rose on either side, cutting out the sunlight and making a corridor for the wind.

Goldie pulled her threadbare cardigan closely around her as she followed Jack along the familiar streets. As they passed one house, she paused, snuffling back tears. She turned to the boy. “I used to live there.” She pointed at the house. “We lived in a room at the back.”

“Did you have brothers an’ sisters?” Jack took her arm and pulled her away.

Goldie shook her head. “Papa went to heaven when I was very little. Mamma worked in a mill. She said I’d work there soon.” She sniffed. “I don’t want to work in a mill. Some of my friends got hurt real bad. They had to go under the machines to get bits of cotton. They call them sca…scave…scavengers.”

“Did you run away?” Jack asked.

Goldie nodded. “Mamma got poorly. She was being sick all the time and pooing. Our room smelled real bad. Then Mamma went to be with Papa in heaven.” She began to cry.

“Then Annie found me. I was very hungry and cold and she promised me somewhere to sleep and food to eat if I worked for Mr Smith.” Working for Mr Smith would be better than the mill.

Even if Mr Smith were a hard man, and it seemed he was, if she were a good girl and did as she was told, she would not get the cane.

Jack continued to lead her through the streets of the town.

Following, she found herself in a part of the town she did not know. The children sat on the ground opposite a church. 

Bells rang from the steeple calling the people to worship. 

Goldie noticed the gravestones surrounding the building. Her mother would not have the luxury of such. Goldie did not know what happened to her mother’s body. People came and took it away. 

A woman arrived to take her to the orphanage. The little girl had a fear of that place. Her mother had often threatened to send her there when she was angry.

Goldie looked around. This was where the ‘posh’ people lived.

The street was clean. Goldie looked at the houses. Most were tall with three stories above road level, and some had steps leading to a basement. Doors opened and people dressed in their best clothes flocked towards the church.

The men wore black or dark brown suits with white shirts and colourful cravats. High black hats were the height of fashion and every man sported one, removing it before entering the building.They shepherded their wives dressed in more colourful attire, although still fairly sober for church. Most of the dresses had bustles, but a few of the older women still wore the wide, hooped crinolines. Like the men, all wore hats.

They hustled their children into the church, barely looking at the two ragged children sitting opposite.

Goldie’s face fell. “What will happen if we don’t take anything back to Mr Smith? Will he switch us?”

Jack patted her on the back. “Don’t worry, Goldie. When they come out, they’ll feel they should do something for charity and then they’ll give us money. I ain’t never been here on a church day when I got nothing.”

The few passersby sniffed as they walked past, and one or two crossed the road. A couple dropped a few small coins in the children’s hats, but it was a  pitifully small amount. Then the church doors opened. The people spilled onto the road. A carriage drawn by a bay horse drew up and a family climbed inside.  The carriage trotted away.

People chattered outside the church. Goldie noticed the congregation beginning to disperse and was about to give up hope of anyone giving them alms. 

It was then that Jack stood. “Please spare a coin. Me and me sister is ’ungry. We ain’t ’ad nuffin to eat since yesterday morning.” He reached out a hand as a couple passed.

The woman searched in her bag and tossed a penny to the pair.

A little girl looked at Goldie. “Mamma, we can’t let such a pretty little girl starve. Give her something.”

The mother puckered her brow. “How do we know they will spend it on food? You know what these beggars are like.”

The girl looked shocked. “Mamma! You heard what the vicar said. ‘Jesus said when you feed one of these poor people, you are feeding me.’ And he said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me.’ Jesus would not have left them begging without giving them something.”

The girl’s father came up to them. “She’s right, you know.” He felt in his pocket and dropped a coin into the hat. Then he shepherded them away.

Jack looked into the hat on the floor. His eyes opened wide. “A shilling! He gave us a whole shilling!”

During the next few hours several more people gave them money, and when the daylight began to fade, they made their way back to the house where Mr Smith lived.

When he saw how much they had gathered, his face almost split with his grin. “I knew you would be good as a beggar, Goldie. Now go and get something to eat.”

I hope you are enjoying this serialisation of my story inspired by Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

I love hearing from you. Please leave your comments in the comments box.

If you would like to read some more of my writing, click on the book cover in the side bar to take you to a page where you can buy from the retailer of your choice.

serial, short story, stories

Goldilocks Reimagined: A Darker Story Unfolds

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I have been writing a few stories based on fairy tales. I’ve completed two. They aren’t exactly retellings, but stories inspired by them.

I thought you might like to read one of them. It’s too long for a single post, so I’m serialising it. I hope you enjoy it.

This story is inspired by the Tale of Goldilocks and the three bears.

But first, a brief reminder of the story.

You will remember that Goldilocks was walking in the forest and entered a cottage.

It belonged to three bears, mother, father and baby. She tried all their chairs, and only baby bear’s fit. She ate their porridge, but one was too hot, one too sweet and the last just right. She went upstairs and tried their beds. One too hard, one too soft and baby’s just right. Here she fell asleep.

When the bears came home, they found someone had been sitting in their chairs and eating their porridge. When they went upstairs, they found Goldilocks asleep in baby bear’s bed.

In the story, Goldilocks jumped out of the window, landed on a passing hay cart and was taken home.

Image created with Bing Image Creator

I’ve set the story inspired by this fairy tale in Victorian England.

Now read on.

The little girl woke as a loud voice called, “Come on, you lazy bunch of layabouts. Time to be working.”

She struggled to a sitting position stiff from sleeping on a thin mattress on the floor.

A lad of about twelve thrust a piece of stale bread into her hand. “Get your water from yon bucket.” He passed on to the next child.

Yesterday, a woman who called herself Annie, brought her here, but where ‘here’ was, she had no idea. Annie found her crying and shivering in the street. She had been nice to her, told her she would take her somewhere where she would have a roof over her head and something to eat.

There were five other mattresses on the floor, and children were slowly getting up from them. The boy with the bread was handing a slice to each child.

She took a bite from her slice. It was hard and tasted slightly mouldy, but she was hungry, so she swallowed it. She rose and wandered to the bucket. There were some chipped cups next to it and she dipped one to fill it, gulping the drink down.

She gazed around the room. The ceiling sloped and had wooden beams. The floor was bare wood and apart from the mattresses, there was nothing else.

The man who had shouted at the children stood next to a door. He pointed at the little girl. “You. Come here. What’s your name?”

She looked around to make sure it was her the man was talking to, then tiptoed towards him.” M-m-my n-n-na…” She burst into tears.

“Stop that.” The man scowled. “I’m Mr Smith. You will call me ‘Sir’. Got that? If you can’t tell me your name, I’ll call you Goldie. Now Goldie, how old are you? Do you know? You look about five.”

Goldie nodded.

Mr Smith looked down his long nose. “When Annie found you on the street yesterday, you were alone. Do you have any family?”

Goldie shook her head, still snuffling.

Mr Smith nodded and smiled. He looked at Goldie out of the corner of his eye. ” I’m going to help you, Goldie, and you’ll help me. You’ll get shelter and food from me, and in return you’ll work for me.”

The door opened at that moment and a woman entered. “Oh, I see you have a new child.”

She strolled up to Goldie and lifted a lock of her hair. “What a lovely colour. Like spun gold. She’ll make a good candidate as one of my girls.”

“Not until she’s much older, Mary.” Mr Smith laughed. “Undesirable as many of your clients are, I don’t think babies are on their list.”

Mary shook her head, smiling. “You’d be surprised what some of my clients want. I can supply most things, but even I draw the line at very young children.”

“Most noble of you. But you aren’t getting Goldie. She’s much too valuable to me.”

“Begging? Yes, I can see such a pretty child would make the punters feel guilty and then they’ll give more.” She gave a short laugh. “But bear me in mind when she gets old enough to join my establishment.”

“What do you want? You wouldn’t come up here for nothing.”

“Oh, I heard about your new acquisition and wanted to see if she is as pretty as rumour has it.”

Mr Smith shook his head. “Annie only found her yesterday, and already everyone knows about her.”

“Well, you know what it’s like round here. I’m off now I’ve seen her. Remember me when she’s grown up enough.” She flitted through the door, leaving Mr Smith scowling.

He turned to Goldie. “You’re to go with Jack. He’ll teach you what to do. Now get out of my sight.”

A boy of about ten with scruffy dark hair stood and came across to her. “I’m Jack.” He pulled Goldie towards the door as Mr Smith reached for a cane standing next to the bucket of water.

“Come over here, Peter,” she heard him say. He swished the cane, and it made a buzzing sound as it passed through the air. “I’ll teach you to keep money back. You need to hand over all you get.”

A snuffling boy of about eight years old dragged his feet as he walked across the room.

To be continued.

Did you enjoy this? Comments in the comments box, please.

Would you like to read more of my writing? You can buy any of my books by clicking on the cover in the side bar. It will take you to a page where you can buy from your favourite online store.

fantasy, free book, novel, stories

A chance for a free book to read during the holidays.

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A Young Adult book from Kent Wayne. Well worth a read whatever your age.

The day after tomorrow, my YA fantasy series is FREE on Kindle from 12/2 thru 12/6!

You can read my 5*review of this book here.

book reviews, novel

Review of The Silent Forest by David Kummer

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OVERVIEW 

I am a fan of this young writer, and this book is as good as the others I’ve read. It is Book 2 in a horror series, and is as scary as Book 1.

BLURB

In New Haven, everything is changing. And there’s no going back now.

It’s been weeks since Allison went missing, and everyone has given up except for Kaia. New Haven mourns their dead as she keeps looking. And now, she’s starting to find answers.

As the unsolved cases pile up, a new discovery in the forest offers hope. But it also threatens to unbury all of New Haven’s darkest secrets.

For the Woods family, it will take everything they have. For Kaia, it’s the last chance.

There are some shadows you can’t keep underground.

STORY

In book 1, Kaia’s best friend, Alison, has disappeared into an abandoned house on the outskirts of the town. This house has been long-feared, and mysterious lights are often seen there.

After  searching for Alison, the townsfolk and the sheriff presume her to be dead.

In this book, we learn that Kaia does not believe her friend is dead, and determines to find Alison.

With a mystery boy, who appears not to know things any normal  boy would know (even about baseball) and the letters from an unknown source, we are plunged into a world of monstrous happenings.

Is Alison alive? Did her new husband kill her, as he claims? What is lurking in the old house, and will it venture forth to wreak havoc on the town?

I don’t want to give away too much, so I’ll stop there.

CHARACTERS 

There are many characters in this book, all of whom relate their bits of the story. This isn’t confusing, as David Kummer devotes a clearly named chapter to each.

Kaia is filled with anxiety for her friend. She has put off going to university for a year after the traumatic events of the previous few weeks. She is clearly suffering from PTSD. 

We see Malaki, Alison’s husband, gradually descend into madness after he and Alison visited the house, and their experiences there.

Naomi Woods is Kaia’s mother. She is a strong woman who will give everything to protect her children. This is a strength and a weakness.

Rhys is a mysterious boy. He was found in book 1 walking along the road at night and was taken in by the Woods family. They can find out nothing about him. He also has little, if any, knowledge of 21st century USA. We see him learning about the modern world.

There are many other characters, all complex with their own agendas, but to analyse them all would make this review far too long. You need to read the books yourselves to find out.

WRITING 

David Kummer does an excellent job of building tension. The oppressive heat of the summer seems to weigh on the characters, creating the feeling of waiting for something to happen, be it simply rain, or something deadly from the house. This feeling permeates the whole book.

There are a few grammatical errors, but not enough to spoil my pleasure in reading. But I do wish authors would learn how to use ‘lay’ and ‘lie’!

I gave this book 4* and thoroughly recommend it and Book 1.

My ranking of books. In order to get a particular number of stars, it is not necessary to meet all the criteria. This is a guide only.

5* Exceptional. Wonderful story. Setting well drawn, and characters believable–not perfect, but with flaws. Will keep you up all night. No typos or grammatical errors.

4* A thoroughly enjoyable read. Great and original story. Believable setting and characters. Very few grammatical errors or typos.

3* I enjoyed it. Good story. Characters need some development. Some typos or grammatical errors.

2* Not for me. Story not very strong. Unbelievable and flat characters. Setting not clearly defined. Many typos or grammatical errors.

1* I hated it. Story almost non-existent. Setting poor. Possibly couldn’t finish it.

Do you enjoy the horror genre? It’s not something I usually go for, but I an really enjoying this series, Can ‘t wait until book 3 comes out.

announcement, book release, fantasy, novel

Horselords: Kimi and Davrael’s Romance Unveiled

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Another novella in my Wolves of Vimar prequels. This one is number 4, and is called Horselords. It tells of how Kimi and Davrael met.

It went for editing, but the next thing I knew, I heard that it was being formatted. I can only assume that the edit went well and there was nothing untoward found. That’s amazing, but I must thank the people on Scribophile who helped by critiquing it.

I accepted the formatting, and today received the suggested blurb and cover.

I rejected both!

The blurb mentioned nothing about the romance between Davrael and Kimi and the difficulties they had. This is mainly what the book is about so it should be in the blurb.

The cover showed a girl looking much younger than Kimi, who is 16 at the beginning. Her clothing is wrong, not what she would have worn, and the horse isn’t the piebald Kimi rides. So I can’t actually show you anything.

Apologies for that, but as soon as I get something suitable, you will be the first to see it.

I have a review to post, but I wanted to tell you where we are with the publishing.

history, Poetry

We Will Remember Them: Reflecting on WW1’s Legacy

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Today is Armistice Day. World War 1 ended at 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

I wrote a poem to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the end of WW1. I’ve published it before on Dragons Rule OK, and make no apologies for re-publishing it now.

For those of you who haven’t seen it before, I hope you enjoy it and that it makes you think of the futility of war. And to those of you who remember it, similarly.

War is evil and should never happen. It’s always a result of greed and/or hatred; two emotions that should be relegated to the deepest depths of Hell. And as all wars end in talks, why not begin there?

Here’s my poem.

We Will Remember Them.

I’ll never truly understand
How World War I began.
The death of Archduke Ferdinand
Started the deaths of many more,
The young, the old, the rich, the poor.
All died with guns in hand.

    My Grandad went with Uncle Jim 
    And Our Poor Willie, too.
    They sent them off, singing a hymn.
    Grandad went to Gallipoli,
    Uncle Jim left his love, Polly.
    Gas in trenches did kill him.

    I cannot see, in my mind’s eye
    Grandad with gun in hand.
    A peaceful man, sent out to die.
    He fought for us, for you and me
    So we can live and so that we
    Safely in our beds may lie.

    Granddad came home, and Willie too,
    But millions more did not.
    Their duty they all had to do.
    They died in fear, in noise, in blood.
    Everything was caked in mud.
    Yet in those fields the poppies grew.

    The War to end all wars, they said,
    So terrible were the deaths.
    The youth of Europe all lay dead.
    Yet 21 short years to come
    Another war. Once more a gun
    In young men’s hands brought death.

    One hundred years have passed since then.
    What have we learned? Not much!
    Too many men are killing men. 
    Wars still abound around the world.
    Bombs and missiles still are hurled
    At those who disagree with them.

    Uncle Jim was my Grandfather’s brother. I never knew him as I wasn’t born when he died.

    ‘Our poor Willie’ was what my grandmother said when referring to her brother. No one ever knew why he was ‘Our poor Willie’, except that she didn’t get on with his wife and thought she made his life difficult.

    I hope you enjoyed my poem. I wish I thought it might make a difference to the terrible wars going on at the moment, but I’m just a teeny drop in a vast ocean. Sadly, my voice is only heard by a very few people.

    Please let me know what you think in the comments box.

    You can read more of my poetry by clicking on the cover in the side bar. This one comes from Miscellaneous Thoughts.

    announcement, book release, fantasy, novel, stories

    Behind the Scenes of Horselords: Final Edits and Cover Design

    2 Comments

    I received the edited copy of Horselords on Sunday. I’ve now sent the final copy back to my publisher. The next step is the formatting and cover.

    This is the fourth of the prequels to my Wolves of Vimar series. This novella follows the story of Davrael and Kimi, telling how they met and the problems their love put them through.

    So far, I’ve told of how Carthinal’s parents met (Jovinda and Noli), how Carthinal came to become a mage (The Making of a Mage), and the early life of Asphodel (Dreams of an Elf Maid).

    Hopefully it won’t be too long now before I can share the cover with you.

    Halloween, Holidays, Poetry

    Celebrating Halloween with Poetic Fun

    10 Comments

    Image by ApplesPC from Pixabay

    As it’s Halloween today, I thought I’d write a little poem to celebrate it. We don’t do as much for Halloween in the U.K. as the people of the US do, but it’s beginning to creep in here. This year I’ve noticed a few people have decorated their houses.

    Halloween

    Witches gather their broomsticks
    Putting on pointy hats.
    Devils creep out from hell
    As spiders build their webs.
    Ghosts walk the streets
    And skeletons leave their graves
    Jack O’Lanterns grin
    With fiery eyes that glow   

    A cold wind blows the leaves
    As we shiver in our homes.
    The darkness seems to creep
    Beneath the gap below the door.
    Ghostly sounds are heard.
    And the doorbell rings
    We huddle together in fear.
    What horrors await outside?

    We creep towards the door
    And open it with care.
    The ghosts and skeletons jump
    Towards us with a screech.
    The witches cackle loudly,
    Jack O’Lantern held up high.
    Then come the words we know


    Image by Nisse Andersson from Pixabay

    This is a new poem, but if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. simply click on the image in the side bar.

    Currently, Next Chapter, my publisher, has discounts for people who buy 2 or more books in a series from Google Play Store

    • 2 books: 20% discount
    • 3 books: 30% discount
    • 4 or more books: 40% discount

    No coupon code is needed for these discounts: all customers who find Next Chapter books in the Google Play Store are able to use these discounts (as long as they buy 2 or more books in any one series at the same time).

    Here’s a link to my One Poem a Day series if you are interested.

    Click to buy.

    Guest Post, history

    Interview with Yecheilyah Ysrayl

    12 Comments

    October is Black History Month and so I invited Yecheilyah Ysrayl to come on my blog.

    I have been following Yecheilyah for a few years. She is a wonderful poet and a champion of Black writers, and Black people in general. She recently wrote a book about Black History and I thought it would be appropriate to have her tell us a bit about herself.

    Welcome to my blog, Yecheilyah.

    Apart from writing, what is the thing you enjoy doing the most?

    Apart from writing, I enjoy traveling! Whether from state to state or country to country, there is something therapeutic about leaving the place of your origin to discover how people live in other parts of the world. Traveling even helps me to write.

    Do you prefer the city or the country?

    I prefer to live and settle in the countryside. I lived on over 40 acres of my husband’s elderly cousin’s land in Louisiana for five years and loved it. Even now, I live in a country-ish part of Georgia. Not entirely country, but country enough. The peace of birds singing and waking you up in the morning and the quiet of country living is also therapeutic. Nothing compares to the space to grow your garden and have animals roam your land. It reminds me of why my ancestors valued land ownership so much.

    I do not prefer to live in the city, but I am a Chicago girl, born and raised, so I won’t act like I don’t still enjoy the hustle and bustle of the city. I still love the energy and how the city comes alive. In Atlanta, there is always something to do.

    I agree. I much prefer the countryside.

    If you weren’t a writer, what job would you do?

    Before I dedicated my life entirely to writing and publishing (no 9-5), I was a certified Medical Assistant specializing in Phlebotomy so I would probably be doing that. I was also a teacher and enjoyed it more than the medical field, so I would definitely be somebody’s teacher somewhere. Even now I visit schools as an author-teacher on occasion.

    That’s interesting. Teaching can be a most rewarding profession, whether at school or adult education. It’s great to see people growing as they learn.

    I read your poetry book. I Am Soul and was greatly impressed by it. Why do you write poetry?

    I write poetry because I think it’s the most honest language there is. (Yes, I said language.) There is something about it that makes people see beyond what they can see. And there is something about writing it that has always been a balm to my soul. I like to say that if you want to know someone’s heart, read their poems.

    It’s very strange, but I’ve noticed that whenever I post a poem here it gets lots of views, but books of poetry don’t seem to sell. I suppose that poetry can influence people, just as other books we read, especially as children. The early books we read, I think, have a great influence on our reading later in life,

    What is the first book you remember either reading or having read to you?

    The first book I remember having read to me was the Bible by my mother. I don’t celebrate holidays today, but as a child, my mother would sit in front of us in a chair (we were in bed) during the Christmas holiday with this giant Bible that must have been passed down from generations because it was huge. My mother was always a small woman, so the book looked heavier than she was. Anyway, she would sit that thing in her lap and read it to us.

    Wonderful memories, I’m sure.

    If you could meet any 3 people, alive or dead, who would they be? Why?

    If I could meet anyone, it would be my grandmother Margurite, Maya Angelou, James Baldwin, and Malcolm X. I know that’s four, but I didn’t want to leave anyone out. I would like to meet my maternal grandmother because she died before I was born, and I carry her name as my middle name. I would like to ask her questions about my history to better understand my mother and myself. When asked questions like this, we often overlook our own family members, whom we might not have had a chance to meet, and the wisdom they could impart to us. As for the other three, I mostly want to meet them because I admire their oratory skills. I love hearing how they spoke and articulated their thoughts, beliefs, and philosophies on life. While I don’t agree with everything they stood for, they each had a powerful passion and never allowed anyone to change their mind. Their rebuttals to questions in interviews were just masterful. You weren’t going to trip them up. I would love to talk to them about how they did it and soak up their wisdom.

    You are correct about asking questions about your history. We should all ask those questions and not wait until it’s too late. I would also like to meet the others. All great people.

    Why do you write?

    As noble as it might sound to start this with how I write for others, the most honest answer is that I first write because it is healing to my individual self. It is a way to organize thoughts and feelings I might not have the words to say out loud. I write as a healing agent for myself first. After that, I write to restore the forgotten heritage to the forgotten people, first to Black people and then to all nations. My passion is to reclaim those lost stories that hold the key to our freedoms and shine the light of truth on them.

    That is a wonderful goal, Y

    Indeed it is, Yecheilyal. I hope you succeed in your ambitions on this front.

    A question I can’t answer, myself. Where do you get your ideas from?

    I think people see writers as these magical people who snatch ideas from the sky. And not that we are not magical, but most of our ideas, or at least mine, come from just living life. From seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary, the magic in the mundane. An idea can strike me as I am washing dishes or folding clothes. It can strike as I am traveling from place to place. It can also strike, and often does when I am reading and studying the work of others. I learn a lot from other writers, authors, and activists.

    Are you a dog or a cat person?

    I am definitely a dog person! Now, I grew up with cats, but after experiencing having a dog as a pet, I prefer dogs. Also, I don’t think my Missy (German Shepherd/Collie Mix) would appreciate me answering this question any other way.

    I’m sure she would be annoyed if you did.

    What do you think is the biggest problem facing the world today?

    The biggest problem facing the world today is a lack of love. The love of the world has grown cold.

    It has indeed. So much hatred around.

    Thank you for coming and answering my questions, Yecheilyah. I would now like to mention your book on Black History. It is a wonderful book and it can be bought from Amazon. (Click on the link or the book cover below.)

    Here’s a bit about it.

    Black History Facts You Didn’t Learn in School is a historical guide on Black Americans’ accomplishments, contributions, and struggles. It includes the experiences of Black individuals who have often been marginalized, overlooked, or omitted from mainstream historical accounts.

    From the resilience of women like Anna Douglass, first wife of Frederick Douglass, to the many Black communities that prospered, recognizing and celebrating Black history helps to ensure that these stories are acknowledged and that the achievements and resilience of Black people are valued and appreciated.

    And a review.

    Jeremy Lamkin

    5.0 out of 5 stars

     Awakening to the skeletons in America’s closet

    Reviewed in the United States on 6 March 2024

    Verified Purchase

    This book is full of the kind of history that should be taught in school, but instead is relatively unknown. The author did an outstanding job putting this material together, which took ten years and tons of research. It’s a must-read for anyone who’s into history.

    The author focuses on people and groups who have been pivotal in black history. She gives a voice to the marginalized and makes us aware of the contributions of the family of historical figures like Frederick Douglas and Martin Luther King Jr. Each chapter gets the dirt on whitewashed or forgotten pieces of history.

    Read this book to learn about the aftermath of the Civil War and how slavery was reconstructed in the form of criminal justice. The book is compelling and hard to put down, as you discover a series of horrific truths about history.

    This book contributed significantly to my view of American history, as it has put a lot of things in perspective. I see how slavery was reworked into other forms of slavery and evolved in complexity into the Bernaysian economic system based on Freud’s fear of human nature.

    Reading this, a lot of lightbulbs went off for me. It dawned on me that nothing that ever happened is ever really over, like slavery and public relations. I can’t recommend this book enough!

    Me again: I thoroughly recommend this book. So many important Black people have been ignored. This book highlights some of them and tells us how important they were.

    I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Please add your thoughts in the comments box.